


A Crown Of Kandi

by b10f3m4l3



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Rave, Rave AU, Recreational Drug Use, Scene Kid AU, scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b10f3m4l3/pseuds/b10f3m4l3
Summary: Lapin Cadbury lives for two things, being a rave kid, and being a rave kid on ecstasy. When it comes to his life outside the Sweetened Path (the raves DJed by his good friend Sugarplum), very little takes place except for an ongoing dare (being the high reverend in a local catholic church) and sleep. When Keradin Deeproot comes to preach, Lapin suddenly deals with the collision of these two worlds, Rave and Religion. - or "The fic in which Lapin is a rave kid and Keradin is a priest and yet it still seems to be kerapin"
Relationships: Annabelle Cheddar & Primsy Coldbottle, Lapin Cadbury & The Sugar Plum Fairy, Lapin Cadbury/Keradin Deeproot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	A Crown Of Kandi

**Author's Note:**

> IDK IDK ignore the summary its kinda shit. This is my scene kid/raver acoc au, more will be explained as the story goes on so i wont bore you with notes, but i worked reaaally hard on this so if you like it,, please give kudos and comment!!

Keradin Deeproot was too afraid to enter this den of sin. He had prepared for weeks for this, planned his clothes, his demeanor. He had even got a "temp tattoo" on his inner wrist. It seemed to be some sort of...yellow... anthropomorphic sponge. Curious. Nevertheless he stamped it on his body (well, stamp was a harsh word. He spent 40 minutes picking one out of a pack and followed the instructions carefully, and then cried afterwards), he got into his most sinful clothes (a black shirt with a small rose emblem and white khakis). God above, he even left his rosary at home (and replaced it with a small blue plastic cross that was currently digging into his thigh from his pocket). He prayed and prayed for the holy ghost to give him the strength, but still his knees faltered at the thought of entering the abandoned warehouse before him, which blared loud, unholy music. This was the gateway to hell, the devil's dance party, a black hole for all good. This was a "rave".

  
  


The good reverend Lapin Cadbury was (at the time) snorting crushed pills off the grimy seat of a toilet. He brought his paw to brush the dust out of his fur and turned to the dealer standing behind him. 

"If these pills aren't shit, I'm breaking your knees and I'm not even like, kidding, dude." He said, waving his furry hand dismissively. His long ears twitched in the air as he walked out of the crumbling restroom, towards the source of the blaring, ear-splitting music. He felt his heart jumping in his ribs with the beat, like Satan banging on the doors to hell. It was fucking brilliant. 

He went full out tonight, decked out in Kandi and ripped clothing and a fishnet shirt, he was dressing like he was 21 again. As he hopped to the music, his sleeves of multicoloured beads rattled like a chorus of snakes. Different people attempted to swap, but he truly was so old and bitter, PLUR could fuck itself.

Lapin waded through the crowds, slipping between people like a bunny darting through trees. His ears cut above the crowd ever so slightly, like a shark's fin. As he found his way to the entrance, Lapin tapped on the single rollie that was left in his pocket, which was most likely laced with.. something, but he didn't particularly care, it was a Saturday night! He came here to get fucked up and have fun!

As he bounded down the steps of the warehouse, his bare feet slapping against concrete, and the chill of the air brushing through his fur, Lapin took out a small violet lighter, and flicked up a flame. Holding the rollie between his lips, he brought his paw up to shield it from the breeze, and lit it.

The night was cold and empty, the street dark aside from the orange glow of Cheddar's corner shop, the 24/7 convenience that was just down the road. Even with Lapin's huge ears, all he could hear was the thumping of music and the bustling of people outside. It, in a fucked up kind of way, was very peaceful. Life in that moment, when Lapin's breath steamed the air, and his lungs were chilled by the early autumn night, was just peace, love, unity and..well...Lapin didn't respect anyone but himself, but you get the point.

Lapin adjusted his sweaty clothes, pulled his kandi up from where it had rolled down his arms, and enjoyed his cigarette, the smoke wafting into the air and dissipating on the breeze. Lapin had been raving before raving was even a thing. Wind whistled through the buildings, picking up old wrappers and plastic bottles that lay in the street. This was Lapin’s home. His life. Before he had rave, he had rock. And before rock, he had loud music played through the biggest speakers he could find. And before that. Well… he didn’t want to think about his father.

The only other thing that he had going for him was the church, and that was just the tedious result of a misjudged bet with friends. He didn’t expect to become reverend, but life just went that way, he guessed. Halfway through his ciggie, Lapin took out his phone - cracked, as if smashed with a brick - and tried to unlock it. His password was t34p0t, an inside joke from 15 years ago that he couldn't explain even if he wanted to. Even as he entered it now he chuckled. He flipped through his previous texts, and pressed on the contact marked “Sugarplum”, quickly writing out a message to his best friend of 40 years . 

_yh im going to the cheds to get some beer or vodka or summat, want anything? xx_

_im fucking djing a rave you stupid rabbit._

...  
  


_get me a coke, prick xx_

Lapin grinned as he threw his cigarette butt on the floor and stamped on it hard, grinding it into the pavement with his long rabbit's foot. He had a bounce in his step as he walked through the cold, blue night, across the seldom-used road, along the cracked tarmac. He came to stop in front of the windows of the Cheddar’s Off-License, the golden light from which spilled out onto the street, purging away the darkness, warm yellow shearing away cold blue. 

As he walked in the glass door, a small bell gave off a familiar _ding_ , and the young girl at the counter looked up from the book she was holding. Primsy Coldbottle, cousin of the owner of this fine establishment, was around 5’7”’, just a few inches taller than Lapin. She was wearing a robe, white, pink, blue, and fluffy. Her hair was tied in a scarf of similar colours, as if she had just been about to go to bed, but the trainers on her feet and the small kandi bracelet around her wrist proved otherwise. She kept trying to sneak into the raves, which, well. Lapin didn’t think it was appropriate for a child there. Luckily, Primsy’s cousin, Annabelle agreed, and the little scamp had been kept safe in the shop, or the apartment above.

“‘Ello Lapin!” Whether you agreed with her trying to get in the raves or not, Primsy’s sunshine voice and irish accent were sure to put a smile on anyone's face, “What’ll it be today, silly rabbit?”

Lapin smiled at the young girl, flashing his buck teeth. His fingers danced in the air as he walked down the aisles, perusing the store's contents.

“Well… I was hoping Annabelle might be around, I need vodka. Like. Lots.” he replied.

Primsy made a face, cringing. 

“Sometimes I forget you sound so much like an egg. Anyway- you can’t buy that.” 

Lapin looked away from the bread aisle. “I sound like a what? Also I totally can, just get your sister.”

“No, egghead. As in you can’t buy that. We. Don’t. Have. Any. You lot cleaned it out.” Primsy rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, as Lapin rushed up to the counter towards her in shock, slamming his paws on the wood.

He couldn’t believe this. How was he supposed to enjoy the afterparty gossip with Sugarplum if he couldn’t get blackout during it? 

“There has to be _something._ ” he said, making puppy-dog eyes at a very unimpressed Primsy.

A voice, deeper, rougher, somehow _more_ irish, sounded out behind him. It was the very disgruntled voice of “Captain” Annabelle Cheddar, the owner of the establishment.

“Ah’ve got some communion wine in the back from when ah’ sailed to Italy? It’ll cost you a pretty penni’ but you’re free to take it, if you get the fuck out me and me cousin’s gaff right now.” Lapin turned to face Annabelle, twisting in place, already rustling in his pockets for money. Annabelle looked… less than pleased with Lapin, for various reasons. “I don’t see why you need it though. You already look lashed.”

Lapin placed a wad of cash in her calloused hands, and lugged the large bottles of cheap wine into his arms with a grunt. 

“Keep the change, Captain Cheeseface!” Lapin chuckled as he ran out the door, feet pounding on the road as he ran, faster and faster and faster, towards the warehouse where the rave was taking place. He ran so fast that all he could see was the blue and the dark and the flashing rave lights and he didn't even see the man in front of him until it was too-

_**BANG. SMASH.** _

Lapin flew into Keradin with the force of a car. The large bottles in his hands fell to the ground and smashed, splattering them both with blood-red wine, sending a crimson spray with a sharp stench into the air. Both Lapin and Keradin slammed straight down to the tarmac, bumping knees and scraping skin. Lapin tumbled and flew across broken glass, peppering tiny cuts across his back and arms, like pinpricks in a cushion. Keradin had it worse, going headfirst into a kerb, the only thing stopping him from breaking his neck being the wine bottle edging his course so slightly by smashing into his face, bursting open across his brow. 

Lapin rolled around, groaning. That… hurt. He wiped wine from his eyes and looked at the man lying across from him, who was sopping with the stuff. He reached forward, to touch this other man’s face, to wipe some of the burning scarlet alcohol away, but as his fingers made contact, he was greeted by piercing orange eyes, delicate eyelashes, and- soggy with wine -long luxurious dark hair. 

“Father Deeproot. What a Surprise.”

“Reverend Cadbury. I could say the same.”


End file.
